


you melt your doubt and fall into me

by theomegapoint



Series: Kinktober 2019 [15]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Collars, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Public Scene, sort of? you'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21978544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theomegapoint/pseuds/theomegapoint
Summary: “That’s a very public statement,” Jehan says. They take a sip of their tea. “I’m a little surprised, honestly.”“Is it that surprising?” Grantaire doesn’t think a lot about how their relationship looks from the outside, usually. That’s for Enjolras to worry about. “It’s always been this way.”
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: Kinktober 2019 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1503860
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	you melt your doubt and fall into me

Enjolras holds out the collar like a promise, and Grantaire knows it’s a threat disguised as a kindness. That’s his favorite of the things that Enjolras does, and they both know it. He tilts his head to the side, the question he means to ask left unspoken, and Enjolras only smiles at him.

“Do you want to wear it to the meeting?”

It’s phrased like a question, but as with so many things Enjolras asks him the tone is only a formality. Grantaire can say _no_ , of course, because he can always say _no_. That’s the one thing Enjolras has always been _exceedingly_ clear about and periodically he gives Grantaire actual choices to make sure he understands. This is not, precisely, one of those choices. Their friends sort of know—well, they know that Enjolras and Grantaire are together, obviously. There wasn’t any hiding that one anymore once they’d both come in for a meeting with gauze conspicuously taped to the sides of their necks. It turns out there _are_ , in fact, compelling reasons to only bond during a heat and that the marks heal more immediately is one of them.

But there’s only a sort of general awareness about the actual nature of their relationship. Musichetta knows, because she’s seen them at the dungeon. Everyone else falls into the hazy space of being aware that even though they’re Alpha and Omega, they would never and could never have a truly traditional relationship. They don’t know the specifics of it. This would be a small, but subtle introduction into their private lives.

The collar isn’t anything flashy, because Enjolras wouldn’t stand for anything extravagant, but it is very clearly a collar like the ones omegas traditionally wear. It means something to let other people see him in it and Grantaire trusts Enjolras with so much of his life but he hesitates over this.

“You know they won’t care. Bousset wears one.”

“I know,” Grantaire says. It’s not an answer, but Enjolras allows him the slip. “What—what are the rules, sir? For being in public wearing it.”

_While being yours_ , he means. It’s unbearable to say, though, and Enjolras touches his fingers to Grantaire’s face. He lets Grantaire lean into the touch.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. I expect you to listen to me,” Enjolras says. His thumb brushes over Grantaire’s lips. “I expect you to behave yourself. It doesn’t mean anything different for you, alpha. It just means people will know who you belong to—the same as when we go to the dungeon.”

“Okay.” Grantaire breathes out and bows his head forward, a clear sign. “I’ll wear it.”

“There’s my good alpha,” Enjolras says. He moves slightly so he can fasten the collar around Grantaire’s neck. It’s custom-made, handcrafted by a local artisan to Enjolras’ exact specifications and given to Grantaire on their fifth anniversary. “Breathe. Is it too tight?”

Grantaire breathes, feeling the collar tighten and loosen as he swallows. It’s looser than he would like, actually, but that’s not what Enjolras is asking him so he shakes his head. The words will come back to him in a moment, but he needs a moment to settle. Enjolras lets him find his grounding and then gently puts his jacket on, fingers deftly doing up the zipper. He fixes the collar, and Grantaire lets him because that’s another thing he trusts Enjolras with.

They walk to the Musain, Enjolras having looped his arm around Grantaire’s to guide him, and when they enter Enjolras sits Grantaire down next to him. It’s not exactly unusual, but it’s also not usual so Courfeyrac takes the seat on the other side of Combeferre and Grantaire sees the way he’s about to complain before he catches sight of the collar around Grantaire’s throat.

“You know that explains a lot,” Courfeyrac says. “Is it leather?”

“Of course,” Grantaire says, pride leaking into his words. “It’s important.”

His collar being made of leather is part of what marks him as important to Enjolras. Enjolras is vegan with minor exceptions for certain leather products—a fact that Grantaire is directly responsible for, actually—after a very brutal argument about the environmental effects of leather versus the plastic that makes up many vegan leathers. He would never own a leather jacket, but he’s caved to the argument about the longevity of leather shoes and has literally not bought a new pair of shoes in the entire time they’ve been together.

The flogger that Enjolras occasionally uses is also leather, as are some of their restraints. Enjolras pays _so_ much money for anything leather and Grantaire meticulously maintains it all so his money is where his mouth is on reducing their overall environmental impact. Enjolras wants to be zero waste, but is also realistic enough to realize that some waste is necessary. Usually. They had a whole different conversation about the feasibility of keeping a compost bin in their apartment, but the point is that Enjolras is willing to buy leather for important things that are supposed to last. Grantaire’s collar being leather means it’s meant to last forever.

“It looks good on you,” Combeferre says. He pats Grantaire’s shoulder. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to be more open about your relationship with Enjolras.”

Grantaire knows he should probably say something in response, but Enjolras starts the meeting and Grantaire has to pretend like nothing is different. Fundamentally, of course, it isn’t. He _feels_ like something has shifted, though, and it means he needs to focus on Enjolras slightly more than he would normally. He argues with him whenever he feels like it’s necessary, and manages to forget about the collar entirely until the meeting is over and he slips away from Enjolras to talk with Jehan.

“That’s a very public statement,” Jehan says. They take a sip of their tea. “I’m a little surprised, honestly.”

“Is it that surprising?” Grantaire doesn’t think a lot about how their relationship looks from the outside, usually. That’s for Enjolras to worry about. “It’s always been this way.”

“You and Enjolras are very private people when it comes to your personal lives.” Jehan pats Grantaire’s arm, the sort of gesture that would be condescending from anyone else and is just kindness from them. “The thing itself isn’t surprising, just that you would choose to share it.”

“You successfully hid your relationship from us for almost two years,” Feuilly adds. It’s not accusatory, just a statement of fact. Feuilly has always been good about that. “Not because you wanted to keep it a secret, but because it was a private thing between the two of you. Even now, you and Enjolras don’t really believe in PDA.”

“Not everyone can be Cosette and Marius.” That’s not what Feuilly means and Grantaire knows it. “We just subtler about it, is all.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Enjolras kiss you,” Courfeyrac says, having appeared from _somewhere_. He sets a drink down in front of Grantaire and tilts his head in Enjolras’ direction. “From your omega.”

The thing is that Enjolras doesn’t kiss Grantaire that often, period. If you’d asked Grantaire before he started dating Enjolras, he would have said that was a dealbreaker. With Enjolras, it doesn’t matter. He gets the same thing kissing provided in other ways now. The sure knowledge of what wearing Enjolras’ collar means is enough that he doesn’t need to be physically shown that Enjolras loves him and the idea that the others don’t understand that is confusing.

“Did you _want_ us to be more like Marius and Cosette?”

“Not exactly.” Jehan makes a considering noise. “I think we’re just saying that it’s nice to see that you love each other, sometimes. You’re probably the most hard-to-read mated couple I’ve ever met.”

“Someone at the rally last week chatted Enjolras up and refused to believe he was mated.” Courfeyrac shrugs, and Grantaire drinks to cover up his feelings about that. It’s water, which means he’s not allowed to drink actual alcohol. “Enjolras was furious. Combeferre had to keep him from starting a fight.”

Grantaire remembers that not because he saw it happen, but because Enjolras had pulled him onto the couch and aggressively scented him. It was unusual enough that Grantaire stopped him, stopped everything, and made Enjolras explain. In retrospect, that probably explains the collar. Enjolras tended to get possessive about Grantaire whenever he feels like Grantaire isn’t being appreciated enough. Usually it’s someone else’s fault. Sometimes it’s Grantaire’s own fault, and then Enjolras is even more aggressive about it.

“He knows,” Grantaire says, because he can’t articulate what he actually means, “and that’s what matters.”

“Obviously, but you know how Enjolras gets when he sees something as an injustice.” Courfeyrac rolls his eyes, because they’ve had this conversation about a thousand times before. “The fact that some people just don’t understand you can constantly argue with someone and still love them is lost on him.”

“There’s still people who think forensics is CSI nonsense and not just us being very, very good at public speaking.” Jehan shakes their head, because they were forensics captain the year Enjolras was debate captain. “I just read poetry; I don’t know how fingerprints work.”

Part of the problem is definitely that Enjolras is used to being surrounded by one of the best debate teams in France, in Grantaire’s opinion. He only knows Enjolras in the first place because they were assigned to the same debate team in freshman year, back when the teams were looser and more fluid. Then, when the teams became more set, it was always Enjolras as Prime Minister, and Grantaire as Last Speaker. The other three people on their team were shuffled around to meet the requirement of having new people on every team, but Grantaire and Enjolras were nearly always paired together as first and last speakers.

Les Amis de l'ABC started as a bunch of forensics and debate students and now it’s a whole different thing, so it’s difficult to see the ways that where they started have influenced where they’ve ended up. They still call interruptions PoIs and sometimes someone, mostly Marius, will stand up with their hand on their head to make a PoI. If someone didn’t know that Grantaire’s relationship with Enjolras is predicated on debate, on disagreeing with him to make his points stronger, it’s probably difficult to see how that translates into love.

“Maybe I should start being a trophy mate.” Grantaire sets his drink down and glances over at Enjolras, considering. “Might as well go for full role reversal, right? I’ll just be pretty arm candy while Enjolras changes the world.”

“You need to start letting Cosette do something about your hair if you’re going to be eye candy,” Courfeyrac says. He touches Grantaire’s hair and makes a face. “Seriously, what have I told you and 2-in-1 shampoo? Please buy something better, I’m _begging_ you.”

“I found this really great all-natural vegan hair product line,” Jehan says, like he knows the next thing out of Grantaire’s mouth is going to be some weak objection about the waste. “They do zero-waste shampoo and conditioner bars.”

“See?” Courfeyrac pats Grantaire’s head. “You can be beautiful _and_ environmentally friendly. Enjolras would be so proud.”

“I’m always proud of him,” Enjolras says. He touches his fingers to the clasp of Grantaire’s collar as he comes up from behind and nudges Grantaire so they can share a chair. “What am I specifically being proud of my alpha for?”

“He’s learning the art of self-care,” Feuilly says, bemused, “so he can fulfill his destiny of being your trophy mate in public and giving you a humanizing factor.”

“As long as it’s only in public.” Enjolras gives up on sitting next to Grantaire and settles himself _on_ Grantaire instead, which makes Courfeyrac and Jehan exchange a glance. “I’d hate for you to stop disagreeing with me.”

Grantaire shifts on the chair so neither of them are in danger of falling off it and Enjolras is more comfortable. It’s almost second nature now that he’s used to the action of being used as furniture, but it still feels strange to do it in front of their friends. Usually Enjolras suffers through the uncomfortableness of sharing a chair with Grantaire by sitting next to him rather than solving the problem in the way sane people do. It’s something about equalness or some other noble idealism, but Grantaire has to admit he prefers this.

“I would never,” Grantaire says, because that’s the truest thing he knows. “We don’t even agree on what to watch for movie nights.”

“Then yes, you can be my trophy alpha.” Enjolras says it like he’s reminding the others he _does_ know what a joke is, but Grantaire hears the promise under his words. “You have the disposition for it, after all.”

The corners of Enjolras’ mouth quirk upwards, a small and private gesture. His fingers come up to touch the side of Grantaire’s face, and then he presses their mouths together. It’s not a kiss to start anything, dry and quick, but more of a kiss to reassure Grantaire of something. Or maybe Enjolras is the one who needs reassuring?

It doesn’t matter. Grantaire ignores the dramatic noises Courfeyrac is making and smiles into the kiss: he belongs to Enjolras and nobody else.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd just like to say, from the bottom of my heart as a former forensics and debate captain, fuck paris-style debate


End file.
